


and at least i understood then the hunger i felt and i didn’t have to call it loneliness

by symbiont



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Pizza, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28327038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symbiont/pseuds/symbiont
Summary: He’s out of breath just from eating, Elliott realises and it’s enough to send a shiver of arousal through him at his own gluttony, intense and red hot.**Or Mirage canonically ate three pizzas.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	and at least i understood then the hunger i felt and i didn’t have to call it loneliness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FatAssMirage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatAssMirage/gifts).



> a rather mediocre gift and not what you wanted at all but i hope it's okay anyway! merry christmas!

It hadn’t seemed that much at the time, he’d ordered it only half concentrating as he’d thumbed through his Mom’s records looking for the familiar codename. They must’ve each been neatly labelled about one point but spending time in a basement hadn’t exactly helped to preserve them. Some of the paper had already started to turn brown and the spidery writing had cracked and faded to grey in places, so Elliott has to move more slowly, reading each of the files over and over until he can work out what they contain. 

Finding Project Wraith would have been difficult enough anyway. 

The interruption of the doorbell ringing is welcome, a chance for Elliott to work out the kinks in his spine and stretch his stiff legs. But his mind is already back to the work ahead of him by the time he’s shuffling back down to the basement, the three hulking pizza boxes in his hands, the complementary breadsticks balanced atop them and the 2L of soda cradled in the crook of his arm already an afterthought. Making things right again, or at least trying to, is all Elliott can focus on - choking back the memories of the way Wraith’s face had crumpled for just a moment before erupting into anger when she’d heard what he’d said (so carelessly).

Upset, anger… he’d seen both on her face but not shock, not disbelief and that hurts the most - guilt that stings like a freshly opened wound. How shitty of a friend had Elliott been that Wraith hadn’t been shocked by what he’d said? 

Elliott shoves another piece of pizza into his mouth, focusing on the burst of flavour across his tongue - greasy and heavy and calming - to stop that train of thoughts in its tracks. Dusting the flour from his fingertips with the sharp taste of tomato and the heat of the pepperoncinis still on his tongue, Elliott can’t quite resist taking another slice and another, as he thumbs through another file and comes to yet another dead end. 

He’s sure that the files are all fascinating really and probably all types of incriminating, enough to have some hunky IMC soldiers knocking on his door but that will have to be an anxiety for another day, but every moment that slips past feels like another brick sealing up the wall between him and Wraith (even though… even though Elliott knows it’s not true, nothing is unfixable and a few hours won't make any difference, he can’t help the pang of irrational anxiety that flashes through him regardless).

The folder looks just like any of the others and Elliott’s fingers leave little grease stained fingerprints on one dog-eared corner as he flips it open, ready to give up even as the anxiety in his chest winds tighter and tighter, constricting around his lungs. It isn’t until Elliott flips it open, carelessly scattering the pages across the floor as he reaches for another breadstick and a photo catches his eye - a young woman with neat black hair and a soft smile. Not the Wraith he knows, for sure, but Renee H. Blasey. He tries not to linger too long over the picture, it feels too private, and instead skips quickly down the page until his gaze is drawn to what he’s been looking for - her birthday. Such a simple thing and yet, now that Elliott has really thought about it - thought about anyone but himself for once in a long, long time - he knows just how important it is to her, to understand herself just a little more. To feel like a person. 

Success! He reaches for a celebratory slice of pizza without look but his fingers only hit the cardboard. He scrabbles around for a few moments before Elliott realises there’s nothing there, blinking in confusion. Is there really no pizza left? He’d ordered three pizzas and it hadn’t been that long surely he hadn’t…

His stomach chooses that moment to let out a low, unhappy grumble and Elliott finally realises just how full he is. Three pizzas, complementary breadsticks and the best part of a two litre full, to be exact. Which, uh, yeah, Elliott thinks to himself as he presses a hand tentatively to the warm mound of his belly, was kind of a fucking lot of food. A personal record even. 

How had he not even noticed? The solid weight of the pizza and all that cheese feels like it’s taking up every last space inside of him so that Elliott can only suck in small breaths. He’s out of breath just from eating, Elliott realises and it’s enough to send a shiver of arousal through him at his own gluttony, intense and red hot. 

He’s never pushed himself to this level of fullness before, where he feels swollen and heavy as if his stomach is pinning him to the spot, even though it only curves slightly away from his ribs. Elliott moves his hand tentatively across the swell of his belly, feeling the faint and uncomfortable rumbles that are gurgling away beneath his skin as his stomach works desperately to digest everything. When he pushes down with his fingertips experimentally, Elliott can’t stop the gasp and then the gurgling burp that’s jostled free when his fingers barely sink in, his stomach almost completely taut and bloated. 

Shit… shit… he needs to get to Wraith’s place, Elliott realises distantly. He feels far too full too move right now, heavy and sleepy, but he still eases himself upright, groaning as his centre of gravity shifts with the food inside of him. 

Wraith’s current place is on the other side of the city, a step up from when she’d been moving from hotel room to hotel room to the couch in the backroom of the bar, but still a little inconvenient for Elliott to travel to. Or maybe that was just the 5 pounds of food talking, Elliott thought morosely, as he walked the final few blocks. 

He’s changed into a slightly looser hoodie so that the bloated outline of his belly is barely noticeable, unless he pulls it tight across him. Safely hidden beneath the extra fabric, Elliott moves his hand to cup at the lower curve, marvelling with a kind of sick satisfaction at how round it felt. Not nearly round enough, he thinks, as he climbs the steps to Wraith’s front door, the leaves crunching beneath his feet and his belly bouncing just slightly with each step. 

He’d meant to leave it for her, like all those times he’d ding-dong-ditched his neighbours as a kid, except that he must be feeling more lethargic than he’d realised - either that or Wraith was quicker than he gave her credit for - because before Elliott can make it down the steps, he hears the creak of the door opening. 

‘Witt?’ He freezes, flinching a little at the tentative note in her voice. It had taken so long for her to trust him and now they were back to this, this cold unfamiliarity. Elliott’s stomach churns even more uncomfortably beneath his hoodie and he unconsciously presses his hand to one bloated side, rubbing in tiny soothing circles. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Can’t I just drop in on an old friend… hah…,’ he says, rubbing at the back of his head awkwardly - the short hair of his undercut rasping against his palm. 

‘Elliott,’ Wraith’s voice is cold but she’s not calling him Witt, so that’s an improvement right? Or so Elliott tells himself anyway.

‘I got you something. And also I was… uh… well even I get things wrong sometimes,’ he says, rambling even as he feels his usual confidence deflate - the facade of his ego trickling away like water down a drain until all he’s left with is… is nothing. Himself. ‘I’m sorry, Wraith,’ he says, letting out a breath in one great gusting sigh. ‘I know it doesn’t make it right but… just take a look anyway.’ 

His belly, with as much impeccable timing as the rest of him, decides that this would be the perfect moment to growl. Loudly.

‘Someone’s hungry,’ Wraith says, before her eyebrows draw together again - as if she surprised herself with how easily she slipped back into their usual banter.

‘Ah, n-nope. Not at all actually,’ Elliott says, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. He felt the delicious flame of shame joining everything else in his gut, even if it was a perfectly normal thing to admit to right? Everyone over ate sometimes and Elliott shouldn’t find admitting to it so… so fucking sexy. ‘Really fucking full actually. Ate too much but uh, it was an accident, I was looking for this for you and then… my food was gone,’ he manages to choke out, unable to meet her gaze as if he’s divulging some terrible secret. 

‘Of course it was,’ Wraith says but her voice is a little less icy than it had been. ‘Now, let me…’

Before Elliott fully realises what’s happening, he feels something gentle and warm resting against the curve of his belly. He can’t help but sigh, the feeling so intense that it takes him entirely by surprise. Wraith’s hands are warm and so gentle against his overworked, overburdened skin and a welcome change from the churning tightness there.

‘Does this mean you forgive me?’ Elliott moans, without thinking, followed by a burp that gurgles all the way up from somewhere deep in his stomach. God, does it feel good though, as Wraith’s clever hands work all that air out of him, until he no longer feels like an overinflated balloon but just comfortably seated instead. 

Wraith rolls her eyes before her expression flattens, turning more neutral and serious. Elliott feels his chest go tight, as he sucks in a breath and holds it. 

‘I forgive you.’


End file.
